


Missing In Action

by Chya



Category: CI5: The New Professionals
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-12-30
Updated: 1999-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chya/pseuds/Chya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a CI5 agent is declared 'Missing in Action', Sam Curtis and Tina Backus are left wondering whether or not their colleague, Chris Keel, is dead or alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing In Action

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Brenda for editing, and thanks to Alyse for the title. Also, a tiny bit of credit must go to Reginald Hill's 'Asking for the Moon' - anyone who's read it may know where a little bit of this came from.

Malone walked quietly from his office, and stopped directly behind Spencer.

"Still no word?" he asked, making the young man jump in his seat.

"No, sir," he replied, "It's been nearly forty hours since they last checked in."

"I am aware of that, Mr Spencer," Malone replied, a little more harshly than he had intended, adding a little more softly, "Has Miss Backus checked in yet?"

"No, she's only a couple of hours late, though."

"An hour can be a long time," Malone told Spencer, gently rebuking. "A - "

"Sir!" Spencer interrupted, "I have a signal, it's - it's Backup's signal. It's the recovery signal."

"Location?" demanded Malone.

"South Pacific..." Spencer hesitated.

"Yes, Mr Spencer, I would be rather surprised if she were anywhere else at this time."

"Yes, sir," Spencer gritted his teeth at the sarcasm. "The locator is twenty three miles north of Aligoa Island," he finished.

"Craft?" Spencer looked at the satellite picture, and zoomed in as far as he could.

"Sir, this thing can pick up ships as small as a fishing boat. There doesn't seem to be anything."

"Right," said Malone. "She's far enough out that the US Navy can do a search and rescue. Since we're trying to protect their base, it's the least they can do."

"Yes sir," confirmed Spencer, tapping at one of the terminals in front of him. "What about Curtis and Keel?"

Now it was Malone's turn to hesitate, "We have to assume that they simply cannot contact us," he said at last. "It's too late to send anyone else in; that madman indicated that he would destroy the Navy Base at 1600, local time. We're less than six hours away from that. We'll just have to play it by ear."

*****

Backup slowly became aware of the sound of her own heart sending the blood rushing through her body. She listened to that for a long while, and gradually became aware that a gentle lapping was coming from outside of her. She cracked an eye open, and immediately shut it; too bright. Along with that came the realisation that it was hot. Her face and the front of her arms were hot. Her backside was wet.

She sat up suddenly and squinted in the bright sun. The wind gently mussed her hair, and the sea playfully splashed her with water. Twisting round, Backup's stomach sank. In every direction there was only blue water, and clear blue sky, with the sun climbing overhead.

She was clad in black leggings and boots, which protected her lower body from the sun, but she could already feel the dry burning along her arms, face and neck where the black vest gave very little cover.

Her leggings soaked up the water that pooled in the bottom of the rubber dinghy that was her current accommodation. She checked under the hem of her vest, and was relieved to see the tiny locator flickering with life, though she didn't remember turning it on.

In fact, she didn't remember a whole lot. She rubbed at a spot on her arm, and squinted at it; she had been injected with something. The last thing she recalled was having dinner with friends on the Thames.

Some time later found Backup curled into a tight ball, desperately trying to hide from the sun. Her mouth and throat were bone dry, and her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth. She felt sick and dizzy, her skin sore and tender to the touch.

The sun had passed its zenith and was on the descent. A buzzing filled her ears, and she had to reach deep within herself to find the energy to raise her head.

When she did, it was to see a large green helicopter heading straight for her.

*****

Malone walked quietly from his office, and stopped directly behind Spencer.

"Anything?" he asked, making the young man jump in his seat.

"No, sir," he replied, dejectedly.

"Well, they haven't been looking for long, I suppose. Is the signal still there?"

"Yes sir, Sir!" Spencer became suddenly alert, "I have a call for you, it's - "

"Ah, yes, the Commander, put him on, Mr Spencer," demanded Malone indicating the video screen in front of the younger man.

"Harry," greeted the distinguished man in the US Naval uniform, "we've picked up your agent," he informed the CI5 chief, his voice serious.

"Thank you, Charles. How is she?"

"Dehydration and sunstroke. She's in the base hospital right now. She says she's been drugged, and can't remember much, though."

"Damn," swore Malone.

"When we picked her up, she was muttering something about, and I'm quoting one of my officers, here, "the boys are on the air nuclear flight...' I hope that doesn't mean what I think it does, Harry."

"I'll keep you informed, Commander. And please ask Miss Backus to call as soon as she's able."

"Sir," said Spencer as soon as the connection had been cut, "I'm picking up another signal; 4.5 - "

"Mr Keel," Malone nodded, "Where is he? And don't tell me 'South Pacific', this time, Mr Spencer."

"Difficult to tell, sir, he's moving fast, no, he's stopped. Fixed now at fourteen miles North West of Aligoa."

"And?" Spencer looked at the satellite picture as it zoomed in once again.

Spencer shook his head, "There doesn't seem to be anything." he frowned. "Although there seems to be an aircraft flying away from his position, towards the Naval base."

Malone leaned forward, and watched the blip on the screen in front of him suddenly veer off course, before vanishing.

"Whatever it was - crashed," remarked Spencer, surprised.

"Well, knowing Mr Keel's destructive tendencies, he probably caused it. I rather think that was the plane carrying the nuclear bomb." Malone sighed, "Get me the Commander back on the line, would you Mr Spencer?"

"Yes sir," confirmed Spencer, tapping at one of the terminals in front of him. "What about Curtis?"

Now it was Malone's turn to hesitate, "Mr Curtis is never normally too far away from Mr Keel," he informed Spencer confidently, before retiring to his office.

*****

A gale force wind hitting his face brought Sam back to consciousness with a yell. He found himself looking down at the sea below. A long, long way below. He reached out to grab on to something. His right hand made contact with the door frame, and his left found flesh.

"Leggo!" A familiar voice yelled above the screaming air.

Sam looked up to see Chris crouched behind his left shoulder, a small gash, bleeding profusely at his temple and a livid bruise adorning his right cheek.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam shouted, changing his grip with his left hand to the edge he was sitting on.

"Getting you out of here. You have my recovery signal on you, so if you get lucky, you'll be picked up before the sharks get you! You do remember how to use a parachute, I hope?"

"What about you?"

"Gotta a plane to divert, I'll get off at the next stop!"

"I'll help! I'm not leaving you - !"

"You have a broken leg, and probably cracked ribs, Sam - you'll be of no use to me here! Get down there and let Malone know what happened! Get Backup found!"

"No, Chris!" Sam tried to twist round, but his sore ribs and the bulky parachute harness restricted him, "You can't make me..."

"Sure I can!" Sam felt a shove from behind and he lost his precarious balance, "See ya - !" But the rest of Chris' words were lost in the wind.

A sudden jolt, followed by a flare of agony through his chest, and Sam found himself floating gently toward the water below. A gentle throbbing in his right leg confirmed Chris' words, and he craned his neck to look down. A crude splint surrounded his shin, from knee to ankle, leaving the joints free. Presumably Chris had done it so that the impact of his fall could be absorbed without too much injury to the broken bone.

Sam thought back to the mission. Their cover had been blown before they had even arrived and he and Keel were ambushed immediately. Chris had still been fighting when he had gone down under a rifle butt, and their captors had been none too gentle with either of them. He suspected that he had caught the brunt of their abuse, though Chris had been holding his stomach gingerly, during the brief time they had been awake together.

Backup's arrival had been no less than expected, and she was brought in none the worse for wear. They had all been sedated for the duration, though Backup had been given something a little different; more appropriate for a lady, as the madman in charge had a somewhat old-fashioned view there.

The madman had decided that he and Keel should accompany the bomb to the naval base, while Backup could take her slightly better chances against Mother Nature.

An explosion in the distance somewhere to his left made Sam turn his head as best he could. The fireball that once had been a plane flared brightly, then died in a thick, brief column of smoke. He felt as if he had taken a blow to the gut.

Sam glanced below, his breath catching against the wind as the water came at him. The impact was accompanied by pain of such magnitude that his brain overloaded and switched itself off.

*****

Malone walked quietly from his office, and stopped directly behind Spencer.

"Has the Commander called back yet?" he asked, making the young man jump in his seat yet again.

"Yes, sir," he replied efficiently. "He has just come online for you, sir."

"Very good, put him on, Mr Spencer," said Malone.

"Harry," the Commander greeted the CI5 chief, "We've picked up your agent."

"Thank you, Charles. How is he?"

"Not too good; he was very lucky though, and by all rights should have drowned. He was unconscious and unable to extricate himself from his parachute; he was lucky to have surfaced away from the 'chute. As it is, he has a broken right tibia and fibia, four cracked and one broken rib, a punctured lung, and a serious concussion. He's in the base hospital right now. Miss Backus is now available to speak with you, though."

"Damn," swore Malone. "Put Miss Backus on, would you please, Charles? Ah, Miss Backus, feeling better are we?"

"Yes sir, thank you. I think there's some confusion here though, sir."

"What do you mean?" Malone asked, instantly on the alert.

"They seem to think its Chris they've got in sickbay, but its Sam, and they won't believe me."

"We picked up Mr Keel's recovery signal," Malone said.

"Ah. Well, it was on Curtis, then." There was an awkward pause, "Sam said that Chris went down with the plane."

"Oh," Malone's gaze dropped down for a moment, "I'm sorry. Nevertheless, the threat has been averted, and I'm sending the clean-up squad to Aligoa Island. Are you fit enough to coordinate them, Miss Backus?"

"Yes, sir. Most things are still a blank, though, but perhaps a trip back to Aligoa will trigger something."

"Indeed, but remember, there's no need to worry too much, the danger is over."

"Yes sir." Backup glanced off screen, then came back, "The Commander would like another word, sir."

"Thank you Miss Backus; Charles?"

"Harry, my men are already on to the crash site, I'll have the net spread out, just in case - "

"Thank you, Charles, I appreciate that. Keep me informed, won't you?"

*****

Chris struggled with the controls. He had disconnected the device that allowed the plane to be controlled remotely, and now tried to manoeuvre the old craft off its designated course.

The bulky aeroplane slowly banked, heading for open sea. A sudden juddering threw Chris against the joystick, sending a wave of painful nausea through him as his already abused abdomen rebelled at this further torment.

Falling back into his seat, he looked at the gauges; he was losing height, and the fuel gauge was showing empty. There was nothing more he could do now, so he pulled himself up and back into the windy body of the craft.

He stumbled to the parachute locker, almost falling as the plane lurched into a shallow dive, and pulled one out, shrugging into it painfully. He wished Sam's recovery signal had not been smashed; his own chances of rescue would have been so much better.

He made his way to the doorway that led into open space, but his heart sank as he realised that his chances of survival had suddenly shrunk. He was too low; his parachute probably wouldn't have time to open properly.

He jumped. Counted the fastest ten he could, and jerked the cord. He felt the jolt of the parachute an instant before he hit the water too hard, and knew no more.

*****

Malone walked quietly from his office, and stopped directly behind Spencer.

"You wanted me?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Spencer replied efficiently. "The Commander has just come online again for you, sir."

"Very good, put him on, Mr Spencer," said Malone.

"Harry, I'm afraid there's been no sign of your agent," the Commander was blunt.

"I didn't expect there to be, Charles," sighed Malone.

"An interesting point, Harry, the bomb on the plane wasn't nuclear, it was good old-fashioned dynamite."

"Somehow, Charles, that doesn't surprise me. Miss Backus has cleared Aligoa Island. It seems the man was completely senile, but since he had more money than God, to quote one of his henchmen, his employees were happy to keep their jobs and do whatever he wanted. How is Mr Curtis?"

"Stable and conscious. We'll transfer him back to the UK in the next few days. He keeps asking for Chris Keel, though. We haven't told him anything."

"Tell him the truth, Charles, that you're still looking," Malone instructed. "If you don't, he'll only go off looking by himself, seriously injured or otherwise; he'll probably insist on helping anyway. Just make sure he gets that transfer back."

*****

Chris opened his eyes to darkness, and fire in his gut. Eventually he could make out the night sky, and the pain in his cheek resolved itself into sharp stones that he was lying on.

He tried to push himself up, but a firm hand on his shoulder kept him pinned down, lying on his side in the recovery position. A deep masculine voice said something, but Chris could not understand him.

He tried to move again, and the firm hand supported him, but this time, the agony inside left him lying breathless and moaning. The hand rested on his shoulder, reassuring, and the deep voice kept talking, soothing and comforting.

Chris decided to let the world do as it pleased, and for the time being, retreated to the safety of a passing star.

*****

"What's happening?" Sam demanded from his bed, "When am I getting out of this place?"

"You must be getting better, Sam, you're starting to sound cranky," replied Backup.

"I do not get cranky, Backup," Sam told her, "You're confusing me with Chris. Speaking of whom...?"

Backup shook her head. "It's been a few days; they've not even found a parachute. They're pretty certain he went down with the plane, and, if they don't find anything, they're calling off the search tonight."

Sam swore, "Well, I'm not ready to give up, I haven't even started."

"I think the Commander knows that," Backup replied, "He's arranged for you to have access to the search reports and information on the surrounding area, in short, everything to help you find anything the US Navy might possibly have missed."

"Are you being sarcastic?" asked Sam warily.

"Not at all," Backup tried to look innocent, "But Malone warned the Commander of your obsessive tendencies where Chris is concerned."

"I am not obsessive," Sam told her.

"You're sounding cranky again..."

*****

Chris thought vaguely about climbing down from his star the next time it swung by the earth, but it seemed like far too much effort.

Maybe next time.

*****

"I am not going back!" Sam told Backup angrily, "Not until I've looked for Chris myself!"

"You've seen the reports, Sam, there's nowhere else to look!" Backup argued, "Besides which, no one could have survived over seven days in the water."

"But there must be somewhere! I refuse to believe that he's -. He's got to be around somewhere!"

Backup sighed, "If I could arrange a flight for you over the islands; if you find nothing, will you then accept that Chris isn't going to be found?"

Sam paused and pursed his lips before replying. "I suppose so," he muttered.

*****

Feeling a little curious as to how the world was doing without him, Chris dropped back down to earth when his star passed by.

His body felt heavy and sore, so he settled for simply attempting to open his eyes. So far, so good. He was in a large, whitewashed bedroom, with wooden flooring and the a couple of large green pot plants in the corners. The bed he was lying in was huge, and large, old-fashioned paintings hung from the walls.

He craned his neck, to see the wall opposite the bed was comprised of large open windows leading on to a balcony with palm trees and the ocean beyond. But the effort was too much for Chris, and he sank back against the deep, soft pillows, closing his eyes.

He heard quick, clicking footsteps, and a high female voice saying something excitedly before he fell asleep once more.

***************

"It should have been me," Sam stared out of the airliner's window, "Why did the stupid bastard have to be so bloody heroic."

"Right," agreed Backup, "You know more about aircraft than Chris ever will, so of course you would have been the best person for the job."

"Don't be facetious." Sam snapped, "Of course I don't know much about flying, but I must have been able to do something, and maybe Chris would still be here."

"Or maybe you would both be missing out there." Backup shot back.

"It would have been better than sitting around and wondering." Sam countered. "I just wish we'd found something yesterday."

"I think the pilot, what was his name? Brandon, was almost as disappointed as you that we didn't find anything. You must admit, he went over and above the call of duty. I hear he got a pretty bad dressing down for keeping the helicopter out as long as he did."

"Yes, he was pretty helpful," Sam agreed, grumpily "But it still didn't accomplish anything."

"I'm not looking forward to seeing Malone," Backup said.

"No," said Sam, "He's not going to be happy."

*****

When Chris awoke next, it was to the blurry vision of an angel, leaning over him. Soft, blonde curls framed a perfect face, with big blue eyes and a radiant smile.

"Hello, there," came the soft, sultry voice, "Are you ready to join us today?"

Chris tried to answer, but only a rasping cough came out. Someone lifted him up a little, and the angel gave him some water. He nodded his thanks, his eyes finally focussing properly, and realised that his angel was not as he had fist thought.

She was certainly beautiful, but was also a good fifteen years older than himself. He was allowed to lay back down, as a large, dark skinned man, pulled himself off the bed from behind him. "I will ask Liana to make some soup," the man said, his voice resonating deeply, and Chris recognised the voice from before, when he was lying on, what, a beach?

"Thank you, Samuel," the angel said, "Could you also let the doctor know that our guest is awake?"

"Caroline!" came a new voice, followed by a tall, stocky man, with steel grey hair and eyes. "Are you still fussing over our guest?" His accent was very British, as was Caroline's.

"Oh, Victor," the angel turned to the grey man, excitedly, "It looks like Doctor LeFraye was wrong about his coma, he's just woken up."

"Hmph," Victor grunted, taking his pipe from his mouth and moving closer to peer down at the invalid, "The good doctor does underestimate his own surgical skills at times, darling, So, young man," he began in a gruff, though not unfriendly voice, "Since you've decided to rejoin the living, what brings you here? And who are you anyway?"

Chris opened his mouth, fully expecting his name to come rolling off his tongue. He was shocked when it didn't. "I don't know!" He cried, wide-eyed and panicky.

Caroline looked worried, but Victor laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "The doctor said you might be disoriented," he told Chris, "Don't worry, your memory will probably return soon, young man, and the doctor will be returning to you soon."

Chris lay back, trying to remember. There was the beach, but before that, nothing. He lifted a hand to his head, frowning at the slight yellow caste to his skin and was startled to find bandages there. He did a quick inventory, and found bandages around his midsection and right arm.

"What happened to me?" he asked the angel, Caroline.

"We were rather hoping that you might be able to tell us," Victor answered.

Chris shook his head, immediately regretting it.

"Samuel found you in the sea," Caroline explained. "He was on his way back from the mainland, and you were just trying to swim onto the beach. He stopped to see if you needed assistance, and well, he said you sort of told him to go find Sam and Backup before passing out."

"Sam and Backup?" Chris muttered to himself, "Who or what are they?" The room started to spin, and he let out an involuntary moan.

"Shhh!" Caroline put a soothing hand on his shoulder, "The painkillers are probably wearing off, you can have some more after you've eaten a little."

*****

Sam waited impatiently for Backup to pick him up. They had been back in the UK for three weeks, and Sam was working in the office until his leg completely healed. It aggravated him that he still had to be chauffeured everywhere, and Malone had just made his day even worse.

When Backup's car came round the corner, he put on his best happy face and awkwardly pulled himself into the passenger seat, throwing his crutch into the back.

"Nice day for a drive," he grinned at her, "Fancy going to a pub? That one Chris always liked?"

"Are you quite sure you're feeling okay?" Backup asked him, "You seem way too happy."

"Yes, why, shouldn't I be?"

"No, well, it's just a little unexpected, what with Chris still missing, and all..."

"Backup, Malone just confirmed that Chris is officially Missing In Action." Sam told her, still smiling.

Backup knew what that meant, but still wanted to deny it, "Sam, he's still missing, it doesn't mean - "

"You know as well as I do what it means; no body. But Chris is dead. You know it, and I know it," he said matter-of-factly, "It's time to stop pussyfooting around that fact. I did everything I could to find him. Yes, I feel guilty, but at the end of the day, he was the one that pushed me out of that plane; it wasn't voluntary. He died the way he lived, and I'm grateful for that. He's not the first, and won't be the last agent, colleague and friend to die in the line of duty. It's time to get on with our lives."

Backup stared at him, gaping.

"Eyes on road," smiled Sam with a twinkle in his eye.

"You're taking this better than I am," said Backup, "It sounded like you actually believe your own words."

"That's because I do," Sam said, almost smugly, "Now, I want to get roaring drunk as a final tribute to him."

"I think I'll pass on that for the time being, Sam," Backup said uncertainly, "Maybe at the weekend."

When Backup had dropped him off, the friendly mask vanished, to leave the ice-cold, ruthless face of Sam Curtis that Backup had expected to see earlier. The Sam Curtis that vowed he would find Chris, or Chris' body, no matter what it took.

*****

"When can he be moved to the mainland?" Victor asked the small though portly man in front of him.

"He could be moved right away if you had a helipad. But with sea being the only option, its going to be another week at least," replied Dr LeFraye. "That little skiff of yours will play havoc with his injuries. The surgery I performed was very delicate, and I would hate to see my work undone."

Victor grunted, "Well, I want him off the island at the first opportunity."

"Of course. I understand that, Mr Peterson."

"Did you find out about...?"

"Yes, I did, and its not good," the doctor brushed at his few remaining strands of hair. "The US Navy is looking for one of their own, and your guest fits the description. A Captain Chris Keel. Apparently he went down with one of their aircraft; they were searching for him in case he bailed out, but the search was called off weeks ago; just before you picked him up, in fact."

"Do you think he could be a spy?"

The doctor hesitated, "No. The Navy are certainly hiding something, but I believe that Captain Keel is genuinely missing."

"Well," Victor tapped the ashes from his pipe and began stuffing it once more. "Let's hope he doesn't remember who he is before he gets back to the mainland - "

"Victor!" Caroline protested as she entered the room. "I hope you're not suggesting that we withhold the information we have from the poor man. He's terribly upset!"

"Darling, you know that we can't possibly risk being discovered by the authorities. If he finds out about the labs, it will be his duty to report it to his superiors."

"I know that, Victor, but - "

"Caroline, I know that you care about the man's welfare. You care too much, sometimes, and that's one of the many reasons I love you, but we have to put the welfare of our - patients - first. I don't like it any more than you do, but I just can't see that we can do anything else."

"I suppose, dear, but it seems so cruel, and anyway, he won't find out about the labs. None of us are going to say anything, and he's only just hobbling around on his own; he won't find his way to there."

"Lets compromise then. We'll let him stay until he's well enough to travel, and we'll tell him what we know about his identity when he leaves. If he regains his memory before then, though... We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

"What about telling the Navy that he's been found? Surely then they would provide transport? Surely he must have family that deserve to know?"

"I had considered that, dear, but we really don't want to draw any attention to the island. Their instruments would find the labs easily, and we don't want them asking questions."

"I hate all this secrecy," Caroline sighed, sinking into an armchair.

"I know, dear, but you know what will happen if we let our discoveries get into the hands of officials. They'll sell the drugs to the wealthy, possibly distribute it to the sick in their own countries, and leave the poor to die. It's better that we distribute the drugs ourselves."

"Yes, Victor, I know all this, but it seems that whatever we do, people are still dying through someone choosing who can and who cannot have the drugs. I just wish we could mass produce them."

"We already know that's not possible. Now, doctor, I have the latest batch ready, if you would be so kind as to come with me?"

*****

Chris stood on the balcony, staring over the gently waving palm trees out to sea. He felt lonely, and afraid of the gaping hole that was once his life. Caroline was loving and caring, and he was starting to care for her a great deal as he would a mother or a sister. Victor was stern, but supportive, and he and Caroline obviously loved each other a great deal.

The only other people on the island, apart from the regular visits by the doctor, were Samuel and Liana, siblings who were complete opposites. Liana was tiny in stature, making Samuel look like a giant, and she talked non-stop, fussing over all of them constantly. The more stoic Samuel was indifferent to the invalid, but obeyed Liana and Caroline with unquestioning loyalty.

But as kind as they were, Chris was missing something deeper. Sam and Backup. Names of people he was certain, and they kept floating round his brain, looking for faces to attach themselves to. But as always, nothing was forthcoming. But the one thing that he hated above all else was not knowing his own name.

He touched his temple absently. The bandage was gone now, the wound healed. He still felt a little muzzy, but he still needed some painkillers for his gut. He had somehow damaged his liver, something to do with a broken rib poking where it didn't belong. It was healing, the jaundiced look gone, but the process seemed so slow.

"Hey, mister!" the familiar high voice, preceded by the fast clicking footsteps told Chris that it was lunchtime.

"Hi, Liana," he went back inside.

"You should get dressed now," the petite woman told him, pointing to the dark blue sweats Victor had loaned him, "Lunch will ready in fifteen minutes, and you will not be late today, please."

"I promise," he smiled back at her. He had been late for every meal since he had been allowed out of bed. But it was so far through the big house to the dining room that it had always taken him by surprise how long it took to get there. His own weakness made it slow going of course, and that was just another thing on his list of current frustrations.

"Yes, yes, of course," Liana laughed and waved a hand dismissively at him as she clicked on her little heels out of the room.

Ten minutes later he headed for the dining room. This time he made it downstairs in just a couple of minutes, but a wave of pain forced him to sit for a while at the bottom of the stairs. When the spasm had passed, he got to his feet again, and made his way across the wide hall, knowing that he was going to be late again.

A crash from the stairs leading to the lower levels startled him and he made his way over and cautiously made his way down. He was about to call out when voices floated up the stairwell and stopped as he tried to make sense of them.

"I'm sorry!" that was the doctors voice, trembling, "I don't know how it happened!"

"You idiot!" This was the first time Chris had heard Victor raise his voice, and he sounded livid, "Do you realise how much those drugs were worth? Do you know how many li-"

"Victor, calm down," Caroline was sharp, "It was an accident!"

"But its going to be another two weeks before another batch is ready! I put too much work into each batch for even one to be lost through some idiot who trips over his own feet!"

"I know you're angry dear, but there's nothing we can do about it. Now Captain Keel will be waiting for us upstairs, so I suggest you both wash your hands and join us as soon as you can before he takes it into his head to come looking for us."

"Christ, I'd forgotten about him," muttered Victor, "When can we get rid of him? He's going to discover what we do here if we're not careful."

"End of the week, Mr Peterson," replied the doctor.

Hearing footsteps, probably Caroline, Chris turned to go back up the stairs. Who the hell was Captain Keel? He stopped suddenly as he found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun held by the impassive Samuel.

*****

Sam stared at the screen in front of him. Updating files was boring him silly, and his mind had better things to do. He kept replaying the last conversation he had had with Chris over and over. But the more he kept thinking about it, the harder it became to remember what his partner's voice sounded like.

There were plenty of audio tapes he could play to remind him, but he didn't want that. He wanted to remember in his own mind. He wanted to remember Chris' face in the same way, but even that was becoming blurry in his mind's eye.

He had booked a flight back out to the islands and was due to fly in less than forty-eight hours. The fact that Malone had refused him the time off was irrelevant. He had to find some closure.

*****

Backup observed Sam gazing into space, and her instincts told her that he was up to something. She was pretty sure she knew what, and when she checked with the airlines, she found his booking.

She sat at her computer, considering whether to tell the boss. It did not take her long to decide. She advised Malone, who did not seem surprised, but did seem a little worried.

*****

Chris sat at the dining room table in a daze, leaving the food in front of him untouched. 'My name is Captain Chris Keel' he thought. It sort of sounded right, but not quite familiar. He was in the US Navy, apparently. Again, almost, but not quite right.

"He can come back with me, tonight," offered the doctor.

"But he knows about the drugs," protested Victor, "We can't let him leave now."

"And what do you propose we do with him, Victor, keep him prisoner? Kill him, perhaps? I say we let the doctor take him back. We should explain things to him, and if he still feels he should tell his superiors, then well, we'll just have to accept the consequences."

"Hey!" It was Chris' turn to protest, "Don't I get a say in this? Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"We told you what we know," said Caroline.

"About me, yeah, but what was with Samuel and his empty shotgun? What are the drugs?"

"Again, I'm sorry," said Caroline, "I don't even know why we keep the gun. Samuel was just being protective. But the drugs - "

"Are medicinal," broke in Victor, as Caroline nodded, "We have found what is effectively a cure for cancer, most varieties at any rate. The main content of the drug is quite rare, we grow the plants downstairs, but each batch takes months to produce, and then, only enough for five doses. It can't be synthesised, and is incredibly expensive to produce."

"But we don't want to have to either sell to, or work for any government," carried on Caroline. "They would only sell it to the rich, or some of the more altruistic governments may distribute it to their own citizens, but the poor would never see any of it. The kind doctor ships it out to nominated hospitals worldwide." She reached over to take his hand in hers, "Please, we're not really doing anything wrong, we just want to help in our own way."

Chris wanted to laugh, but restrained himself, "Caroline, I think you're naive, and I don't think you'd have anything to worry about if people did find out-"

"You're the one who's naive, Captain." interrupted Victor, "It happened when I worked in the States. I was forced to sell the rights to a drug. I did very well out of it of course, but when I saw what was being done, it sickened me. Now, I use that money to help people who don't have any."

"Let's say I accept that," replied Chris, "Even so, it's your business, not mine." He looked Caroline in the eye, and said softly, "I just want to go home."

Caroline squeezed his hand once before letting go, "I think that's a decision made, gentlemen."

**********

Malone received the news in his customary stoic fashion, "Thank you, Charles," he said to the Commander, "Please let Doctor LeFraye know that CI5 are forever in his debt. We can finally close the Aligoa case." He terminated the connection, and turned his attention to Spencer. "I think Miss Backus and Mr Curtis should be informed, don't you, Mr Spencer?" he said solemnly.

"Yes, sir," agreed Spencer, still shocked at the news. A short while later, Backup had arrived and been briefed, but Curtis was unreachable.

"He'll be at the airport, sir," Backup reminded him.

"Ah, yes, Mr Curtis' unscheduled holiday, I had rather hoped that he might have come to his senses. I suggest you and Mr Spencer wave him off," said Malone, "And make sure you inform him of the consequences should he decide to take that flight."

"Oh, I think we can, er, persuade him not to leave, sir," grinned Backup, putting on her jacket.

"Make sure you do."

*****

Sam waited in the departure lounge with a paper open in front of him that he was not reading. He had no real plan. Just fly out, rent a boat and search for Chris. He was certain that the US Navy must have missed something, even though he had pored over the reports.

Someone ripped the paper from his hand. "Backup!" he raised an eyebrow, "What are you doing here?"

"I could say the same to you," Backup stood aggressively, hands on her hips. Glancing round, he could see Spencer blocking his exit. "What happened to 'It's time to accept - '?"

"Yeah, well, a South Pacific cruise just took my fancy."

"Uh-huh. And just walking out on CI5."

Sam frowned; he hadn't really thought of that. There was sort of a basic assumption that he would be able to walk right back into CI5 when he came back to the UK after this quest to find Chris; a fallacy he only now realised.

Backup sat down next to him, barely able to contain her own excitement, "Sam, Malone just had word that Chris has been found. Alive."

The bottom seemed to suddenly drop out of Sam's world, leaving him light-headed and giddy, "What? Where - But How - ?" he stuttered, not quite believing he had heard right.

"We don't know. Some doctor has been treating him on a remote island somewhere. Apparently Chris has amnesia, and the doctor only just found out who he is."

"I don't understand," Sam mumbled, his mind whirling, "It's been weeks..." his voice trailed off, his mind unable to form a coherent thought.

"I guess we'll have to ask him," Backup said. "He's due to fly in tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" yelped Sam, his chaotic mind coalescing into one bright, undeniable thought, "I can't wait that long!"

"You'll just have to contain yourself until then." Backup stood and cocked her head, "Meantime, it might be a good idea to show up at work so that Malone knows you haven't gone haring off round the world."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam picked his holdall up, and followed Backup out of the departure lounge in a daze, 'Chris is alive!" he said to himself, and held on to that thought as a drowning man would to his only lifeline.

*****

He struggled with the joystick, cursing, as the ocean grew nearer, throwing all his willpower into making the aircraft turn. With the infinite tardiness that only happens in bad movies and nightmares, the plane turned. He let go the joystick, and was suddenly at the edge of the open doorway, a parachute strapped to his back, watching the water come up at him frighteningly fast. He jumped, and for one instant was in the rush of freefall, before the violent jolt of his parachute opening brought him awake.

Chris landed back in his seat with a cry of pain as his tender abdomen protested at the abuse.

"This is your captain speaking," came the empty voice over the intercom, "I apologise for the sudden drop. We encountered turbulence that did not show up on our radar, and are now climbing back to our allotted altitude. Your hostesses will be issuing you with free drinks to compensate..."

Chris tuned out the rest of the standard spiel, leaning back exhausted against his seat. The passengers, mostly tourists, immediately started chattering about their 'near-death' experience, and Chris rolled his eyes in resignation, preferring to stare out of the window.

He frowned as his nightmare came back to him in bits and pieces, and the feeling that it wasn't a nightmare but a real memory began to gnaw at him. He held onto the fleeting fragments, and tried to recall what happened next. He closed his eyes and concentrated, but could only come up with a sensation of cold and wet. His side throbbed in sympathy.

Another image flashed into his mind, unbidden. He was pushing someone out of the plane. But the image was gone before he could latch onto it.

*****

Sam and Backup sat in the arrivals hall, Backup quietly reading a book, while Sam fidgeted next to her. The instant the tannoy announced that the flight had landed, Sam was on his feet and at the barrier, peering into the customs hall from which the passengers would emerge.

Backup put her book away, and went to stand next to him, "It'll be at least half an hour before he comes through," she told him.

"I know that Backup, I just can't stand waiting."

"And you're supposed to be the patient one in your partnership?" scoffed Backup.

"Everyone's got to have a little excitement in their lives."

"How's your leg?"

"Better now the cast is off, no itching." Sam replied, craning his neck, trying to see past the screens that blocked the customs hall itself from sight.

Eventually, the passengers started to filter through, and although she couldn't deny her own excitement, she had to laugh at Sam jiggling up and down, trying to see above bobbing heads, and smiled to see families reuniting.

A loud beeping sound pushed its way through the growing crowds, and an electric cart came into view with a porter at the wheel and an elderly lady in the passenger seat. Sam was still straining to see above heads, but Backup spotted the familiar figure riding on the back of the cart, head bowed.

Grabbing Sam's arm, Backup ducked under the barrier and chased after the cart, calling, "Chris!"

Sam hobbled after her, surprisingly fast on his crutch. The cart stopped, and Chris gingerly got off, picking up a small backpack. He waved a thank you at the porter, and was almost swept off his feet by the force of Backup's hug. He returned it uncertainly, and Backup jumped back. "I didn't do that," she told him, "Don't you dare tell anyone I did that."

"Backup?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course," she replied, grinning.

Sam had stopped a couple of feet away, and just stared at his partner. A little thinner, a little tired and pale under his tan, but it was still Chris. And Chris was staring right back at him, a peculiar expression on his face.

Sam was speechless for a minute, then, "Chris? What - Where - How was the flight?" he said weakly, his stomach doing flip-flops. He took a step towards his partner but stopped, unsure of whether to hug him or hit him.

Chris stared back at him, blue-grey eyes tired and bloodshot, but curiously enough, hopeful, "Interesting," he said tentatively, and a little distantly, "Didn't I shove you out of a plane, Sam?"

"Yes," Sam laughed, hobbling over to his partner and throwing an arm about his shoulders, "And don't you think I'm going to forgive you for that anytime soon, either."

"It's great to see you both made it," Chris replied slapping his partner on the back enthusiastically, the hesitant distance gone in an instant.

"You too, mate," Sam couldn't wipe the grin off his face if he tried, and gave his partner a long hug, mindful of their injuries, "I never doubted you for a minute. What happened, anyway?"

"Why don't we go to the coffee-shop?" suggested Backup, "It'd be more comfortable than standing here."

When they had armed themselves with caffeine, and were seated comfortably, Sam repeated his question, "So, what happened? Where were you? Why didn't you contact us? Tell us you were okay?"

"As you can tell," Backup said, "Sam was just a teensy bit worried about you."

"You don't say," Chris grinned, "I'd never have noticed."

"But what did happen?" Sam pushed, ignoring the comments.

Chris sighed and refused to look him in the eye, "It's wasn't that exciting, Sam, I have no idea what happened between jumping out of the plane, and ending up in this rich guy's house."

"'Rich guy's house'...?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah, you know, small private island, with all the trimmings, gorgeous, er, wildlife, you know..." he studiously avoided meeting Sam's eyes, "The couple that owned the place let me stay there until I was well enough to leave."

"But why didn't you contact us?" Sam had the feeling that something wasn't right here.

"I didn't know who to call," Chris said slowly.

"Excuse me?"

"Sam, I was unconscious for a few days, and when I was awake, I was so doped up, I didn't know my own name!"

"They drugged you?" Sam was intense with worry.

"Yes, they drugged me," Chris met his eyes for the first time, laughing, "Painkillers, you dope, pretty heavy duty ones. I only remembered who I was a couple of days ago when they debriefed me at the Navy base." He looked away again. "I only remembered who you were when I saw you just now," he said softly.

There was silence for a moment, before Backup spoke, "So, what you're trying to tell us, Chris, is that you've just had an unapproved extended holiday on an island paradise."

"Er, yeah, you could say that I guess, I mean I couldn't get out of bed long enough to do anything interesting - "

Backup held a hand up, "I don't want to know what you did or didn't do in your bed."

Chris shrugged, "But I'm back, now. Is Malone really mad?"

Backup started to shake her head, but Sam stopped her. "Oh, he's got steam coming out of his ears..." he told Chris gleefully, "You've got a major talking to coming your way, taking a holiday without prior agreement? Tut-tut..."

Chris laughed with them, and knew he was home.

The End

 


End file.
